Someone That You're Not
by LandofShadows
Summary: Romano takes Lizzie out on a date. But will it end the way he wants it to? Read to find out! Cordanoish


**Title:** Someone That You're Not

**Disclaimer: **Um, yeah I definitely DO NOT own ER!

**a/n: **This is my first allER fic, so please tell me what you think!

* * *

"Good morning, Robert," I say as I walk into the scrub room to find that Romano is already there.

"Morning, Lizzie," he mumbles back.

"What's the matter this time?" I ask. He seems especially grumpy today. He was probably just up late looking at internet porn, but you never know.

"Nothing," he replies.

"Okay," I say, figuring that it's probably best not to pester Robert this early in the morning, especially when he's in one of his "moods."

We stand at the sinks for a few more silent minutes, until Robert says, "Hey Lizzie…" He stops in the middle of his sentence.

"Yes?" I inquire, curious about what he was going to say.

"Nothing, never mind," he says quickly.

Realizing that I was due in surgery a good five minutes ago and that I have no time to drag anything out of Robert right now, mumble a quick good-bye and rush out of the room while the nurse tries to prep me.

I managed to avoid Robert for the rest of the day, but I feel bad about how I left him in the scrub room when he wanted to tell me something.

"Can I come in?" I ask, lightly tapping on the frame of the door to his office.

"Sure," he says, barely looking up from the papers spread across his desk. "What do you need, Lizzie?"

"Um, nothing," I say, "I was just wondering what it is you were trying to tell me earlier." I decided that it was better to come right out with my purpose instead of trying to make small talk with Robert.

"I didn't want to tell you anything," he says. I turn to leave, but he adds, "I wanted to ask you something."

"Oh, okay," I say, turning around. "What did you want to ask me?" I am starting to get a bit frustrated at this point. It is so hard to get a straight answer from him sometimes.

"I wanted to ask you," he begins, pausing to take a deep breath, "would you like to go out with me tonight?"

I open my mouth to reply, but I'm too stunned to say anything. He's "asked me out" before, but this time, he sounds really serious.

"Never mind, forget it," he says, seeing the look on my face. "I'm sorry I asked."

"No, Robert, I would love to go out with you!" I say, pasting a fake smile on my face. I was actually going to say no, but the disappointment on his face would have made it too hard.

"Okay," he says nonchalantly. He is doing a very bad job at hiding his excitement.

"I'll meet you back down here in about ten minutes; I just have to grab my stuff, okay?" I walk out of his office and down the hall to my office. I quickly change my clothes into something more appropriate, grab my things, and head back to his office. When I get there, he is standing outside his doorway, all ready to go.

"Ready?" I ask as I walk over to him, even though I already know he is.

"Yep," he says, trying to keep up his whole "okay, I'm going out with you, that's pretty cool" routine.

"So, where are we going?" I ask.

"I was thinking we could go try Kassouf's Kafe," he says. "It just opened up; I haven't been there, have you?"

"No, but I heard it is a nice place," I lie. I don't even know anyone that has been there.

The restaurant is right down the street from the hospital, only a few blocks away. It has been getting quite cold out lately, so we drive to the restaurant. Kassouf's Kafe is nice little place. We're seated as soon as we arrive.

"This is a nice place," I say, trying to break some of the tension. "Good choice."

"Thank you, Lizzie," he replies awkwardly. We've only ever had lunch together in the cafeteria at the hospital, so this is new ground for us and our relationship. After a short period of silence, he asks, "So, how was your day with the ER hooligans?"

"Oh the usual," I sigh. "Some pothead OD'd, a MVA, a suicide attempt, a heart attack and a few GSW's from that gang shooting. Then, of course, we had the usual falling down the stairs and PE accidents. And, as always, we had the lovely psych patients wandering around looking for Pope Urban II. How about you?"

"Eh, the usual, you know, the bypasses, appendectomies and all that other fun stuff," he replies. "I still can't see how you can survive down there!"

"They're not that bad, Robert," I say. Seeing the skeptical look on his face, I add, "As long as you pretend to be swamped with paperwork! Really what I do is write the same stuff a whole bunch of times on blank forms." This causes us to laugh, which helps to break some of the tension. Our food arrives shortly after. I got the chicken parmesan, and Robert ordered the baby back ribs.

"Oh, I'm stuffed," I say as I finish my last bit of chicken. "That was excellent!"

"I know," Robert agrees, wiping his hands on a moist towelette.

We pay for our food and decide to take a walk by the water. I pull my coat tightly around me; the temperature must have dropped at least ten degrees since we left the hospital.

"I wouldn't be surprised if it started snowing," I say, trying to get a conversation going. Robert seems to ignore me, so I ask, "What's the matter, Robert?"

"I just want to know why," he says. I can hear the pain in his voice with each of his words.

"Why what?" I ask, urging him to go on.

"Why don't you love me, or at least like me, Lizzie?" he asks. "I treat you the best I know how. You're the only person that I actually feel some sort of affection towards. I love you, Lizzie."

"I like you, Robert, very much," I respond. "There's just something that's missing from our relationship, and I don't know what it is. But I swear to you, if I knew what it was, I would find some way to find it. I just can't get closer to you, Robert." I can see that his eyes are started to fill with tears.

"I love you, Lizzie," he says, his eyes starting to fill with hurt, "isn't that enough?"

"I'm really, really sorry, Robert," I say, my voice slightly cracking. "I can't explain it, but the man that I'm looking for is just someone that you're not. I'm sorry, I really am."

"Well, couldn't you at least try?" he pleads. "For me?"

"I can't pretend that something is there when it's not," I say sincerely. "That would be like living a lie." I can barely look into his eyes as I say this; he looks like a little boy whose dog just died.

I turn and leave him there, all by himself. I feel bad about it, but what I said is true-the man I'm looking for his just someone that he's not.

The End


End file.
